The sound of chairs scraping the floor woke me. It was noon. I approached Michelle saying, “You did a great job.”
Her face took on a very stern look. “How would you know? You were sleeping.”
“Not really. I might have closed my eyes, but ... ”
“Dan, we heard you snore.”
I was caught and tried to wiggle out of it. “My daughter broke her arm, so I was up most of the night.” Suddenly lying had become easy for me.
“I’m sure that you’re doing a great job.” My hand found my to-do list in my pocket. “Can you teach the rest of the class today? I have a bunch of errands to do and, as you know, my contract for the remaining classes this year is canceled.”
Michelle looked concerned. She opened the textbook to the next lesson and flipped the pages. Finally, she said, “Sure, I’ll do it. Will you teach tomorrow?”
“Certainly, you can count on it.” I tried making my voice sound enthusiastic.
I called Beth as I headed to the elevator. “Has Amy had her surgery?”
“No, they admitted her, but they’re waiting for an available operating room. The surgeon came in and showed me the x-rays. It looks like a clean break, but what do I know? They gave Amy something for the pain. She’s sleeping. Sara’s with her. Where are you?”
“I’m on my way to lunch. I wish I could be there.”
“I do too. Call me later. She should be out of surgery by five.”
***
Maria and her car were at the curb when I emerged from the building.
“How’s your daughter?” she asked as I got into her car.
“She’s at the hospital, awaiting surgery. She’ll be fine. I should be there.”
“Did you hear anything about your friend?”
“No.”
We found an old fashioned diner a few doors away from the car rental office. Maria climbed the entrance steps ahead of me, and despite everything else in my life, I couldn’t help staring at her behind. With every step, her slacks revealed an outline of her underwear. Will I ever get to see that lingerie?
My companion carried the bulk of the conversation as she ate her chicken caesar salad. I watched intently as she dipped a piece of lettuce in the dressing and transferred it to her mouth. To my delight, a bit of white escaped and took residence on her upper lip. I mimed touching my own lip. She blushed, adding a bit of pink to her light brown complexion. Then a long, very red tongue reached up and captured the errant morsel.
With a naughty twinkle in her eyes, she isolated a small piece of chicken. Making sure I watched, she dipped it in the dressing and slowly brought it to her lips. The spear of white meat stayed in a holding pattern near those lips and that tongue while she chewed, all the while staring intently at my face.
Excited, my eyes shifted from her face to the meat on the fork, then back again. Would she eat it now? Would she wait?
Then, I’m certain just to tease me, she dipped the meat into the dressing a second time. Again she brought it close to her mouth in slow motion. Her tongue came out. Would she grab it like a frog capturing a fly? My heartbeat quickened. I began to sweat despite the air conditioning. My world contracted. I was totally focused on her mouth, her fork and the piece of poultry about to be sacrificed to the god of lust.
Her tongue took on a life of its own. It grabbed the meat from the fork in midair and lured it into that sweet cavity. The lips closed. Her jaw muscles took over.
Smiling in a very self-satisfied way, she finished her performance with a drink of water and rested her folk on her plate. Was she done? I wanted more.
Maria chuckled, “Dan, are you okay? You seem to be sweating.”
I fled to the men’s room to wash my face. When I returned, Maria was impatiently checking her cell phone. “Dan, I have to get going. Are you sure you’ll be all right? Don’t forget, we have a dinner date tonight — seven p.m. sharp.” She left planting an air-kiss in the vicinity of my cheek as she passed.
I sat for a while as my heartbeat returned to normal then walked to the car rental office where I selected a mid-sized sedan with a large trunk.
I found a branch of my bank and handed the teller 50 of the hundred dollar bills, covered with a deposit slip. I was certain that she was going to ask questions about the provenance of the money, but, thankfully our conversation was limited to the weather and the traffic on Wisconsin Avenue.
My next stop was my hotel. A business-oriented hotel is a quiet place in the middle of the day. My room was freshly serviced. No gunmen with ugly grins were waiting for me on the furniture. It took two trips to get the three duffle bags into the trunk of the car. All that cash and drugs were heavy.
A short drive up Wisconsin Avenue found a small regional bank. There I opened a new checking account using $5,000 as my initial deposit. I was ready with a long story about a small inheritance, but the vice president (they’re all vice presidents) asked no questions outside of the usual name and address. As an afterthought, I inquired about safe deposit boxes. “We only have the very large boxes left,” he said.
I stuffed a handful of the singles and $10,000 in hundreds in my computer case. The rest went into the box. The bag of drugs stayed in the trunk of the car. It was destined for a watery grave. I wanted to handle it as little as possible.
I considered stopping at a department store to replace my ruined clothes but didn’t. I was exhausted and tired and confused in a way I had never before experienced.
Back at my hotel room, I didn’t open my computer or check my phone messages. I simply undressed to my underwear, fell onto the bed, and drifted into a sound and dreamless sleep.
Chapter 9
What a night
Maria’s call woke me. “Hi, Dan. Are you ready?”
“Err … I was just taking a nap.”
“Dan, you didn’t forget, did you? We’re having dinner with my boss tonight. You’re still coming, aren’t you?” Her voice had a pleading, whining tone.
Suddenly everything clicked into place. “Yes, of course. I’ll meet you in the lobby in twenty minutes.”
“Please, hurry. We can’t be late.”
I washed my face, then called my wife. “How’s Amy?”
“The surgery went well. She’s sleeping. They gave her something for the pain. They put a big cast on her arm. It’s white and as big as one of her legs.” She paused. “I wish you were here.”
“I do, too. How’s Sara taking it?”
“Suddenly she gets to be the big sister again. You know how Amy overshadows Sara. Now Sara has a chance to be in charge. She’s already cleaned Amy’s room and has started making lists of things they can do together this summer even with the cast. How’s the teaching going?”
“The class is fine. I have a good group this time. I’m going out to dinner tonight with a potential new client. I think it’ll turn into something substantial.”
“Lucky you — I’ve been eating in the hospital cafeteria.” She paused, and I could tell that she had her hand on the microphone. “Dan, I have to go. The doctor needs to talk to me. Bye.”
I put the phone down. I really should be there.
Someone knocked on the door. My heart leaped in my chest. The cops? The cartel? Three more knocks. “Who is it?”
“It’s Maria. Are you decent?”
Only a pair of white jockey shorts separated me from nakedness. “One minute, please.” I hurriedly dressed in my wrinkled pants and a clean t-shirt.
When I opened the door, I found a woman transformed. No longer wearing the slacks and short sleeve blouse, she now wore a navy skirt suit and a cream-colored silk top. Silver hoops dangled from her ears. Silver bangles clinked from her right wrist. In contrast to her unadorned appearance during the day, she had enhanced her face with eyeliner, blush, and lipstick. She carried a shopping bag with the Macy’s logo.
She looked me over much in the same way that a butcher might examine a questionable cut of meat. “What were you planning on wearing tonight?�
�� she asked with a scowl. Without waiting for my reply, she opened the closet. Her fingers flipped through my few shirts and one jacket like a disappointed shopper at a used clothing store.
“I thought so. You have nothing. Here, I bought you some things. I think I got the right size.” She emptied the Macy’s bag onto the bed and showed me an expensive pale blue long-sleeved shirt with French cuffs, a small box containing a pair of plain gold cufflinks, and a striped silk tie.
“Maria, you didn’t have to shop for me.”
“Actually, I did. I can’t have you showing up looking like a homeless man I found on the sidewalk. You’re my date and a reflection of me and my taste. Now shave and get dressed.” She turned to leave, then stopped. “You know how to tie a tie don’t you?”
“Yes, Maria, I think I can manage it.”
“Good. I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten minutes.”
She left, but even after the door clicked shut I could feel her presence in the room.
My final inspection took place in the lobby. First, she removed a bit of lint from my jacket. Then she straightened my tie. “My boss arrived a few minutes ago. They’re waiting.” She pointed to the front door where we could see a large black limousine. Arm in arm, we walked together into the warm and eventful night.
***
“Buenas Noches, Miguel,” Maria said to the driver, “Que pasa?”
“Buenas noches, senora. Todos estan bien.”
Once we were settled Maria introduced me to our companions for the evening. Our host, Don Ricardo Juarez, came first. He was Maria’s boss and a fellow Puerto Rican. Sporting at least fifty extra pounds, the man had a high forehead and a gray goatee. Everyone, including his son, referred to him as Don Ricardo or El Jefe.
His companion, a woman less than half his age, sat next to him. She wore a silver sequined dress and lots of jewelry. I never learned her name.
Next, I met Marcos, Don Ricardo’s son and heir. He spoke perfect English, the result of his childhood in New York. He didn’t have a female companion.
There were two other men in the limo, one named Luis, the other Guillermo, both dressed in dark suits. When one of them leaned over, I noticed a gun in his shoulder holster.
We drank as we rode. My glass had magical properties. No matter how much I drank, it never emptied. Lively salsa music played through the speakers maintained the jolly mood.
“Don Ricardo planned this dinner several weeks ago in honor of our clients, Señor Guzman and his wife. They’re from Panama,” Maria explained. “They’re in the US hoping to invest in real estate in the Washington area.”
I smiled and said little as Maria chatted with Marcos and Don Ricardo in Spanish. I cursed myself for not paying closer attention in my ninth grade Spanish class.
The limo stopped in front of a restaurant named Carne in Georgetown. The head waiter came out to greet us and directed us to a large round table where the Guzmans were waiting.
Señora Guzman spoke no English. The husband had command of only a few words. The Señora had a ring on each finger. She wore an expensive dress over her ample figure. El Señor wore an Armani suit.
The festivities started with shots of tequila and continued with wine. It ended, much later, with tiny glasses of liqueur. Between the beginning of the dinner and its end, we ate meat, lots of meat. Waiters came to the table with loaded skewers and carved off portions onto our plates with large knives.
At one point, Maria excused herself, and I announced that I also needed to use el bano. In the hallway, I asked her, “Why are they so nice to me?”
“Why not? You’re my friend, and they find you interesting.”
I found the second part strange. I had hardly said anything. As I made my way back to the table, I saw Marcos in the lobby talking with a man in a rumpled suit. The man bore a striking resemblance to the man I hit with a hammer in the rain in New Jersey. Was he a cousin, a brother? I continued to stare until Maria emerged from the ladies room and led me back to the table.
After we had sat down, Don Ricardo turned to me and said, “Maria tells me that you are a pilot.”
“Yes, and I own my own airplane.” Ricardo seemed impressed.
“Your airplane, how many kilos can it carry?”
That stopped me in mid-swallow. The table grew silent as they waited for my answer. Maria poked my side. I took a breath.
“It can carry me and 300 pounds.”
Ricardo needed no calculator. “About one hundred thirty-six kilos. How fast can it go?”
“It’s not fast. It travels at about 110 miles per hour. It’s much faster to take a commercial flight most of the time.” I began to sweat.
“Yes, but when I fly on a commercial flight, I have to wait in line and take off my shoes. If I fly with you, can I keep my shoes?” he asked with a chuckle.
Don Ricardo’s mirth signaled everyone else to laugh. I laughed too as I thought of the portly man in the passenger seat of my plane with or without his shoes.
“Yes, Don Ricardo, you may keep your shoes on. I would be honored to fly you to your destinations,” I responded with as much grace as I could muster.
My hypothetical passenger nodded, and the conversation changed to other topics. Ricardo focused on his son and the news that Marcos brought from the lobby. It must have been bad news. Both men seemed worried.
“Maria, is something wrong? Did I say something to upset Don Ricardo?” Maybe the men in New Jersey were somehow connected to El Jefe. But Maria ignored my questions. She had joined a conversation with the Guzmans in Spanish.
Finally, as if a cloud had passed through the room, the mood brightened again. Don Ricardo told a joke in Spanish, and Maria leaned over to translate. Her hand rested on my shoulder, her mouth whispered just inches from my ear. I did my best to maintain my composure.
Finally, we raised our glasses one more time, and Don Ricardo intoned: “Salud, dinero, amor y el tiempo para disfrutarlos!”
Maria translated: “Health, money, love, and the time to enjoy them.”
***
I fell asleep on Maria’s shoulder as soon as we entered the limo and didn’t wake up until we were in front of the hotel. Maria walked me to my room, and when I fumbled with my key card, she took it and led me into my own room.
As soon as I took off my jacket, my stomach signaled an emergency. I fell to my knees and delivered half-digested meat, champagne, wine, and tequila into the toilet. I flushed, stood up, and then fell to my knees for a second round. Maria joined me. She sat on the side of the tub and rubbed my back while I leaned over the bowl.
“Pobrecito, you drank too much, you ate too quickly, and you are very tired.”
She had removed her jewelry, shoes, and jacket. The wet washcloth she handed me was nice. I washed my face and then continued to make more contributions to the Washington Metro sewage system.
Maria left me to my misery and went to the sink and carefully washed her face. Then she took off her blouse. She inspected it closely. I guess it didn’t pass muster because she put it in the sink and washed it using the hotel’s hand soap. She rinsed it twice, wrung it out and hung on a towel rack.
I knelt on the floor during her ablutions. I stared unbelievingly at the half-dressed woman, wearing nothing but her bra from the waist up, whom I had met only two nights before. Maria must have seen my stare but ignored it.
When she finished with her blouse, Maria reached both thumbs under her skirt and pulled down her panties. The garment went into the sink where it received the same treatment afforded to the blouse.
The bra came next. Was this a strip tease? No. When she reached behind her back to unfasten her bra clasp, she did it the same way I had seen my wife do it a thousand times. Her breasts fell out for my inspection in the harsh bathroom light.
Maria’s concentration focused on the garment she just removed, I enjoyed looking at her two newly revealed orbs. They were bigger than my wife’s but not grossly enormous. There was a brown birth mark on her left b
reast, the one nearest to me, a fault that just made her more real, more captivating. “Maria, you’re beautiful,” I said from my position on the floor.
“Finish what you’re doing and take a shower. It’s late,” she replied. The bra must have been adequately clean because she took it with her, un-washed, as she left the bathroom. We could have been married for decades.
About twenty minutes later my stomach spasms ceased. Emotionally and physically exhausted, I showered and then turned to the bathroom door holding my rumpled clothes in my hand. What would I find on the other side? Did Maria return to her room? Is she in bed? Will she want sex? I had no idea.
The night light in the bathroom reflected off of Maria’s jewelry and clothing neatly arranged on the desk and desk chair. I could see her shoes lined up at the foot of the bed as if they belonged there. I stood naked in the semi-dark not knowing what to do until Maria ordered, “Come to bed.”
I did. As I got under the covers, she turned and kissed me on the cheek saying, “Sweet dreams.” That startled me since those were the same words I said to my daughters each night.
She turned her back to me and fell asleep. Soon her rhythmic breathing lulled me to sleep as well.
***
My bladder demanded attention a few hours later. Returning from the bathroom, I realized once again a naked woman shared my bed — and the woman was definitely not my wife.
My lust, a persistent ember during the previous two days, erupted into a flame. I slipped under the covers and touched her shoulder. She turned, and without a word, covered my mouth with hers. We kissed for the first time — the kiss seemed to last forever. The tongue that fascinated me at lunch invaded my mouth and entwined with mine. We kicked off the covers. Our hands explored each other’s bodies.
Minutes later, she climbed on top of me and effortlessly our bodies conjoined. Connected, we moved together faster and faster. I wanted to last, to satisfy her, but the sensations were too much. My dam burst. Her smile, as she looked down on me, reminded me of the smile on angles in Renaissance paintings. Her breasts and her hair dangled in my face, just as I had imagined in my dream the first night we met.
Flying Blind Page 7